


This Story's Going Somewhere

by VagabondsAndConventGirls



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: First Kiss, M/M, POV Alternating, Teenage assholes making out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-05
Updated: 2015-07-05
Packaged: 2018-04-07 18:39:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4273860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VagabondsAndConventGirls/pseuds/VagabondsAndConventGirls
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Tumblr Prompt. Once again sucked in by Teenaged Assholes making out. Apparently i can't do fandom without them.</p>
    </blockquote>





	This Story's Going Somewhere

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr Prompt. Once again sucked in by Teenaged Assholes making out. Apparently i can't do fandom without them.

Adam is a little annoyed when pulls up to the church and the yellow beams of his head lights fall on the dusty darkness of a BMW, parked in his regular spot. He heaves a put-upon sigh that no one hears as he pulls himself out of his ugly car. It’s after midnight and he’s been traipsing around the outskirts of Henrietta, hunting down a fray in the ley line that Cabeswater wanted mended. He’s got dirt caked to his ankles from a muddy fucking field, and all he wants is to shower and go to sleep. **  
**

Instead of the side door and the rickety stairs up to his apartment, he slings his backpack over his shoulder and heads towards the front doors of the church. He lets his fingers trail over the hood of the BMW as he goes by. It’s well on it’s way to cold, so the motor has been off and Ronan has been here a while. 

Long enough to be trouble, anyway. 

Adam sighs again and pushes open the doors.

—

Ronan is waiting for Adam. he’s six pews from the altar, lying lengthwise on the hard bench, with a leg thrown over the back. He’s not drunk, exactly —he’s stupid, but he’s not  _stupid_. not lately, anyway— but he’s got enough of a buzz from part of the six pack sitting under the pew that he’s humming to himself under his breath just loud enough that he misses the sound of the doors and adams steps up the aisle until he’s standing  at the end of Ronan’s pew.

“Adam!” He says, and even to him, the drunken cheer is fake. “Look, Chainsaw, it’s Adam.”

Chainsaw is perched on his knee where it’s hooked over the back of the pew, and she cocks her head when Ronan says her name, but otherwise doesn’t react.

Adam glances at the bird, and back to Ronan, offering him a hand with what Ronan hopes is an affectionate eye roll. Ronan stares at the length of Adam’s fingers for a beat too long before taking the offered assistance with one hand and pushing himself up with the other. Chainsaw gives him an offended  _kaw_   as she’s dislodged from her roost.

“You could have waited in the apartment for me. it’s not like you haven’t before,” And Adam looks tired in the dim light, stretched thin around the edges from too much work and too much school and too much Cabeswater ( _and probably_ , Ronan thinks,  _too much_  Ronan.)

Ronan stretches and settles on his feet, lets chainsaw hop on his hand and up to his shoulder. “I like the sanctuary at night. It’s quieter than my head.”

Adam watches him for a minute, and Ronan wants to shuffle his feet like a guilty child under the scrutiny. It’s either that or blush bright enough that the sanctuary glows with it, and Ronan Lynch does not  _blush_.

Eventually, Adam shakes his head. “C’mon. let’s go upstairs. I need a shower,” he says, and Ronan. Ronan follows.

—

Adam tosses his bag in a corner with absolutely zero preamble and watches Ronan over crossed arms as he settles on the floor, elbows on his knees, and chainsaw on his shoulder.

“To what do i owe the pleasure of this late night visit?” He asks once Ronan decides to look him in the eye.

Ronan shrugs inelegantly and looks away, leans his head back on the bed and closes his eyes.

Adam waits.

“I couldn’t sleep. Monmouth is too  _loud_.”

Adam waits again. Monmouth is many things, but loud isn’t one of them. It’s only loud when Ronan makes it loud, blaring terrible techno from too-expensive speakers.

So Adam waits, leaning against the bare wall with his arms crossed over his chest and an eyebrow arched at Ronan.

Ronan doesn’t even open his eyes. “Don’t look at me like that, Parrish,” he says. “You know what I mean. Too much Glendower and too much Cabeswater. Just. Too much everything.”

Adam just nods, doesn’t say what he’s thinking. Because Adam  _is_  Cabeswater. And so is Ronan, really. Maybe that’s why it makes sense in Ronan’s head, because they’re both a piece of that place and maybe need a little escape from it sometimes.

“Ok.”

—

Ronan let’s his eyes open a crack. “Ok?”

Adam just nods. “Ok.”

Ronan eyes him for a second and Adam shrugs, kicks away from the wall.

“It’s not like you’re lying. You don’t. You could have given some excuse about the BMW acting up or whatever. But you didn’t. And I get it. You’re always welcome here, Ronan, though I don’t know how much of an escape from all that is possible here.”

The  _with me_  isn’t said, but it hangs in the air between them anyway.

Ronan just smiles, though. “Next time, I’ll say the BMW needs a going over or something.”

Adam laughs and starts to empty his pockets onto the plastic bed stand by Ronan’s shoulder. “No, you won’t. Besides, has the BMW ever even broken down? I don’t think it’s capable of the sort of wear and tear other vehicles get.”

Ronan snorts. “It’s just a car, Adam.”

Adam pauses, “Dude, it’s really not. I bet there was a time it would have run without the gas. Let’s be real here.”

“Probably. I never let it get empty, so who knows.” He knows the BMW is a dream thing. The vin number is not legally long enough. And it had been his father’s. That was damning enough in the evidence department, as it was.

“You can look at it tomorrow, if you want. See if it works the way it should. Let the gears of your brain work a little bit.”

Adam shakes his head. “Work tomorrow.”

Ronan cracks a sly grin. “That’s fine. The offer’s open. Anytime you want to get under my hood.” And he cringes inwardly at the innuendo, but his grin doesn’t falter.

Adam pauses for a fraction of a second before reaching around Ronan (and Ronan can smell him; he smells like earth and axle grease and  _Adam_.) for a spare shirt.

“We both know you just want to see my ass bent over your car, don’t even pretend otherwise.”

And it’s a joke. Ronan knows this. He knows Adam is fucking with him, that it's a joke, but he’s got just enough alcohol in his system to pretend it isn’t and just roll with it.

“I don’t know,” he plucks at the scuffed knee of Adams jeans next to his shoulder. “The grass stains on your jeans suggest you’d rather be on your knees.”

This time the pause is legitimate and has a certain weight to it. Ronan’s worried he crossed a line, one he can’t laugh off or step back over.

Adam looks down the line of his body, catching Ronan’s eye. His mouth quirks up at the corner.

“Maybe, but I’m not the one staring at someone’s knees right now, am I?”

Ronan leans his head back again, taps his fingers against the green smudges marring the denim of adam’s jeans. “Your grass stains are not a reflection of my fucking preferences, Parrish, but i’m not gonna say you’re wrong.”

—

Ronan’s smile is closed, but full of sharp edges all the same.

Adam shakes his head, leans and scrubs a hand over Ronan’s scalp. “Your preferences were never in question, Lynch.”

Before he can pull away, Ronan’s hand locks on Adam’s wrist, pulls him down further.

Ronan’s eyes are dark, but the smile is still there.

“No, we were talking about yours.”

Adam’s breath hitches (but he’ll never admit to it) and Ronan’s mouth is right there.

He leans the remaining distance between them, presses a soft kiss to that razor sharp smile and then straightens. Ronan’s still got a grip on his wrist, but it’s looser now, and Adam likes to think he’s caught Ronan off guard. “My preferences aren’t really up for debate, are they?”

Ronan’s hold tightens again, and he tugs Adam back down, his other hand sliding to the back of Adam’s neck as he gets closer. They meet in the middle, this time, and Ronan kisses Adam, and it’s not exactly soft. it’s open mouthed, and there’s a slight clash of teeth, and Adam can feel the restraint in it, feel it in way his hold on Adam’s wrist tightens and relaxes.

Adam kisses him back, a little breathlessly. He makes a noise when Ronan’s teeth snag his lower lip, and Ronan pulls back, then, but doesn’t let go. He smiles again, this time with teeth.

“I wasn’t debating, I was asking. Go take your fucking shower.”

**Author's Note:**

> So this was my first fic in 6 years, be gentle. Probably poorly edited and possibly poorly characterized. It will get better, though, because there will be more, since i fell in love with ronan lynch and am refusing to look back.


End file.
